


i'm only doing anything i want to do (because i do it all the time)

by moongirle



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, Other, even if its yourself ig, idk man ive never published on ao3 before, idk man. just read the thing, im not gonna judge, so it can be whoever you want to be, the narrator is never specified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongirle/pseuds/moongirle
Summary: Schlatt shudders, hot tears rolling down his face, teeth bared like an animal’s. He’s curled into himself, drinking alcohol straight from the bottle, shaking uncontrollably.“Fuck off,” he says to me, stuttering due to the chatter of his teeth.“Do you really want to be alone right now, Schlatt?”
Relationships: Jschlatt/literally anyone except it's platonic
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	i'm only doing anything i want to do (because i do it all the time)

Schlatt shudders, hot tears rolling down his face, teeth bared like an animal’s. He’s curled into himself, drinking alcohol straight from the bottle, shaking uncontrollably. “Fuck off,” he says to me, stuttering due to the chatter of his teeth.

“Do you really want to be alone right now, Schlatt?”

“Fuck _off_ ,” he answers.

He’s never looked more vulnerable than this. Angry, vindictive, weak, powerless. He’s lost his grip on everything, completely lost control. I crouch next to him and reach for the bottle. He pulls it out of my reach and slams it against the ground to break it. When it inevitably shatters, he holds his face in his hands and starts to sob, in an angry, unwilling way, a man who doesn’t want to cry, a man who wants to be back in control.

For the first time in my life, I start to feel bad for Schlatt.

“We’re done,” he says brokenly. “It’s over.“

“We had a good run.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than sit here and lie to me?”

He sits up and reaches for another bottle from a shelf, and I slap his hand away. He sneers, his dark eyes narrowed.

“You can’t drink yourself to death, Schlatt.”

“I’m trying to give the people what they want,” he jeers. “They want me dead, and who the fuck doesn’t? I wanna be dead, too.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know jack shit about what I mean.”

As I look at his tear-stained, bruised and bloodied face, I realize that he’s right.

He grabs a wine bottle and slams the neck on the wall, breaking it off, some of the red liquid spilling, and he starts to gulp it down from the jagged edge of the neckless bottle. I’ve spent most of my time working with Schlatt trying to sway him. Trying to keep things in order. Trying to reason with him. It’s only now, in this pitiful state he’s in, that I realize what a waste of time it all was. Because Schlatt can’t be reasoned with. He can’t be rationalized with. No one can change his mind.

Anything Schlatt has ever done has been on his own accord. No one has ever been able to tell him what to do or how to do it. And judging him as egotistical because of that, though correct, isn’t entirely fair; it’s like holding a wildcat to dress codes or being frustrated that a python doesn’t know which fork to use at the dinner table. Schlatt is outside the human sphere of reference, and judging him on a scale that he is not a product of is unfair.

As I watch him finish off the wine in mere minutes, I realize: if he wants to wallow in his misery and die, he will. Nothing I say or do will ever change his mind or make him reconsider. He does what he wants. He always has. He always will. Because it’s who he is.

Because he’s _Schlatt_.

I stand up. There’s no point in staying.

As I leave, I hear him call my name.

I turn around.

“Yes, Schlatt?”

A pause. He’s barely able to raise his head and look at me.

“Thanks,” he finally gasps out. “For trying.”

I can’t help but smile, despite everything.

“You’re welcome, Mr. President.”

And with that, I leave. And I never see J. Schlatt ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> give me comments please i am begging  
> also i wrote this in like 10 minutes  
> fucking follow me on twitter @astramoony  
> only if you want to though  
> thank you for reading!! it means a lot :)


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